


How One Derek Hale Found Himself a Pack

by sinistercollyflower



Series: How one Stiles Stilinski became a werewolf [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Derek Hale Needs a Hug, Except the divergence is right at the start, Fluff, Found Family, Human Derek Hale, M/M, Pack, Pack Feels, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-13 20:44:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16479440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinistercollyflower/pseuds/sinistercollyflower
Summary: “How do you intend to protect yourself from me? I could probably rip you apart and not even notice.”Stiles worries as he paces the room. He’s getting more worked up by the minute and he knows it’s because of the upcoming full moon.“Stiles, I wouldn’t be the first nor last human to help a werewolf through a full moon, not to mention you’re not my first charge either. You’d think someone born into a pack would have experience with these kinds of things.” Derek quipps from the bed. Stiles glares.





	How One Derek Hale Found Himself a Pack

**Author's Note:**

> Did this for Sterek week, my first work even though it's like the 4th prompt of something, oops. Anyway, had this idea a few days ago, put it on the back burner and then saw the prompt today and it just lined up too well. If there's enough interest, I can write some more snippets from this AU because I'd rly love to explore their dynamic in this setting.

“How do you intend to protect yourself from me? I could probably rip you apart and not even notice.”  
Stiles worries as he paces the room. He’s getting more worked up by the minute and he knows it’s because of the upcoming full moon. 

“Stiles, I wouldn’t be the first nor last human to help a werewolf through a full moon, not to mention you’re not my first charge either. You’d think someone born into a pack would have experience with these kinds of things.” Derek quipps from the bed. Stiles glares. 

“Yeah but they were your pack. Family. They wouldn’t hurt you.”

“Some of them would.” he counters calmly.

“Well I definitely will.” he hisses through his fangs.  
Derek sighs. This kid is insufferable. “Stiles, what’s your anchor again?” he asks with his last shred of patience. It gives the kid pause.

“Um, my dad. Or my mom. I don’t know.” the teen answers choppily. If he chose one of them he'd feel guilty about not choosing the other.

“So your parents, family.” Derek clarifies for him. “Good, that’s good. Now think of them, happy memories, do they make you feel safe and so on. Work on that until your claws retract.” He instructs, which makes Stiles realise he'd worked himself up into a partial shift. He closes his eyes and thinks of his mom, her garden, how soft her hair was before chemo, how her voice put him to sleep when he was little. He thinks of his dad as well, long evenings spent together in the Sheriff's office, how comforting his hugs are, how tired he always looks but is never too busy for Stiles. When he opens his eyes he's breathing much more easily, his claws are retracted and he no longer feels his teeth uncomfortably crowding his mouth in sharp points. He looks up to find Derek now standing in front of him.

“Better?” He asks softly.

“Yeah.” Stiles breathes, “Thank you.” 

“No need.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Now apart from using your anchor, there's one more thing we can do to make all this a bit safer for me.” 

“And what's that? Other than, like, chaining me to a rock or something, I don't see how you'd prevent me from going all homicidal on you. You should just lock me up somewhere and get the hell out of dodge.” 

“Not a chance.” he counters, “You said it yourself, I was safe with my family because we were pack. I’m not asking you to consider me pack, no one can force you to do that if you don't want to, but maybe we can confuse your wolf into thinking that I am.” says Derek like he's proposing pasta for dinner. 

Stiles just stares at him. He's not stupid, he's read up on pack dynamics and behaviour and he's pretty sure he knows exactly what Derek is referring to. 

“You want me to-”

“I'm suggesting. I'm not asking you to do anything.”

“Okay, you're suggesting, that I scent mark you?” He squeaks. He intended to just sound incredulous, a deadpan would have worked just as well. Damn his hormones.

Derek's shoulders hunch up and his scent turns a bit bitter. “I could just wear your shirt, but yes, marking would work best. It's up to you.” he says stiffly.  
Stiles considers. Everything else Derek has given him as an option involves some kind of pain, the explanation being that he'd spend too much energy on healing to be in any state to hurt anyone. Compared to that, the marking seems like the actual best possible option, apart from the unwanted physical contact. Except that Stiles thinks it's only unwanted on Derek's part. “Would that make you uncomfortable?” He asks, just to confirm his suspicions. 

“I'm the one who suggested it.” The human counters. Stiles huffs.

“That doesn’t mean it won’t make you uncomfortable. Stop avoiding the question.” He knows what Derek is doing. One of the first things he'd figured out how to do is detecting lies, and the other knows this. Stiles figures that living with a pack of wolves makes one adept at omitting the truth, but Stiles is a seasoned liar himself, and he won't take any of that bullshit.  
Derek takes a long breath and exhales through his mouth. When he looks up his expression is guarded. 

“I'm okay with it as long as you are.” And Stiles can tell that he wants to believe the words himself, and maybe it isn't about awkwardness at all. Maybe it's about the last time Derek's had that kind of touch directed at him and shit, it must have been back in New York, with Laura. He's reminded, once again, that Derek is completely alone. 

He reaches out, palms up, and waits for the other to reciprocate. Derek does, placing his larger hands in Stiles’ grasp slowly. 

Derek may not be a werewolf, Stiles thinks as he rubs the back of Derek's hands with his thumbs gently, but he grew up in a family of them. He wasn’t born with the pack instinct that Stiles has learned to recognise in himself since the bite, but he may as well have been, being brought up as a pack animal. 

And Stiles has his pack. He has his dad, and Scott, and maybe even Melissa, but Derek has no one left. He moves up to his wrists, the pulse points, he's read somewhere those are important, and hears a sharp intake of breath from Derek. His heartbeat has picked up some, but underneath the stale scent of grief and ozone, confusion, Stiles realizes, there’s still that note of something bitter. 

Stiles leaves it on the back burner. Instead, he pulls Derek to himself gently, winding his hands under his arms and resting his chin on the older man's shoulder. He feels a set of strong arms settle on his back and a nose brushing his hair, he knows he should be focusing on Derek's neck, but this is fine for now. This is comfortable. Safe.

“You're warm.” He says intelligently.

“You're warmer.” Derek counters, smile in his tone. 

“I do consider you pack, you know?” Stiles murmurs into his shoulder, realising it himself as he says it. He feels Derek stiffen under his hands and holds him tighter, finally burying his face in the older man’s neck. He feels more than hears the shaky exhale, and pulls back. Derek's got such a gutted look on his face that Stiles feels the need to reassure him.

“You can't hear my heart, but here,” he takes one of Derek's hands and places it on his own neck, over the pulse point. “It's not just that I need you because of the whole werewolf business. And it's not pity. I actually want you around. I like you and I want you to be my pack. My family. And it's okay if you don't agree. But -Just. Know that I've got your back.” he holds Derek's gaze as he says this, determined to get his point across and convince the man of his sincerity. Looking at him now, he understands why the man is so used to keeping silent. 

Looking at him now, Stiles doesn't need words. It's all written on his face, in his scent, the beat of his heart. Derek is right here with him, raw and vulnerable, and Stiles sees him, he gets it.

Derek swallows, searching his face still, and Stiles gives him a soft smile. The hand on his neck tightens and before he knows it, he's being pulled back into a tight embrace. He buries his face back into the hollow of Derek's throat and lets out a small, breathy laugh. “Me too big guy,” he tells his packmate, “me too.”

Standing there, in his room, holding Derek Hale, he knows they're going to be okay.


End file.
